


Good Cop, Bad Cop

by TheSaddleman



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Clara's echoes, F/M, Foreshadowing, Friendship, Humour, Mostly Canon Compliant, No Angst, Spoilers for Episode: s07e14 The Name of the Doctor, a touch of romance, continuity cavalcade, spoilers for Doctor Who Series 7, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaddleman/pseuds/TheSaddleman
Summary: When the Doctor finds out that playing the Good Cop in Good Cop, Bad Cop is not his forte, an accidental admission by Clara results in the two discovering an important and unexpected aspect of Clara's history - and his.





	Good Cop, Bad Cop

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during Series 9, prior to the events of Face the Raven. It started out as a bit of fun riffing on the "Good Cop, Bad Cop" discussion Clara and Twelve have in Face the Raven, but as I was writing this Clara said one line of dialogue that made the whole thing go on a rather interesting tangent.

Clara Oswald and the Doctor sat quietly in the TARDIS. The Doctor was in full-out moping mode, his chin resting in his hands from his perch on the steps leading down towards the console. Clara was enveloped in his favourite armchair, but that’s not why he was moping (well, not this time).

“Cheer up, Doctor,” Clara said.

“Why?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“How wasn’t it my fault?”

“It’s not your fault your face is like that.”

The Doctor sat up, affronted, and looked back. “What’s wrong with my face?”

Clara’s eyes widened. “Absolutely nothing. I’ve grown accustomed to your face, Professor Higgins. But Phillips didn’t have the luxury of knowing what each scowl means.”

“I don’t scowl. I just wanted to ask him a few questions about why he had Dalek parts in his garage.”

“I know,” Clara said. 

“We should go back. Make sure he’s OK.” The Doctor got up and made to head for the doors.

“No! Stop!” Clara jumped out of the chair (or tried to, because it _really_ needed new springs, so the jump transitioned into unladylike squirming for a few moments) and headed him off. “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. I’m sure he’ll be fine. UNIT has great tranquilizers. Trust me on this.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “How would you know?”

Too much information, Clara. “Moving on. He’ll be OK. Don’t worry.”

“I just wanted to ask him what he knew.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean for him to end up huddled in a corner.”

“I know, Doctor.”

“And anyway, it was your idea to play good cop, bad cop.”

Clara gasped. “My idea? Are you kidding? You’ve been in full Luther mode all day. It’s almost like you were trying to impress me or something.”

The Doctor sniffed. “Maybe I was.”

“Well, next time we do good cop, bad cop, I’ll be good cop, OK? I don’t think you have the hang of the concept.”

“I thought good cops were the ones that get results.”

“No, good cops are … hey! You were the one that suggested I be bad cop. Do you mean you expected me to be the incompetent one?”

The Doctor looked down. “No. I was thinking by demonstrating a lack of deductive ability you could lull him into a false sense of security. Then I’d go in and attack while his defenses were down.”

“This isn’t some diabolical mastermind! It was just some random guy who had a weird collection of spare parts! Lack of deductive ability? Who figured out what caused you to get all paranoid about invisible creatures and stopped you from going all Colonel Kurtz? Who figured out Missy’s stupid riddle in the newspaper back in Victorian London? Who managed to keep Bonnie from taking over the world?”

“Point of order, I think you’ll find I was the one who talked her out of doing that.”

“But I was the one inside her head keeping her from doing even worse things,” Clara was seething. And, like most people who seethe, there comes a moment where a line gets crossed. “Who managed to find out your real name?”

The Doctor’s eyes widened. Did he just hear that?

Clara, instantly dropping out of seething mode, mumbled: “Shouldn’t have said that. Definitely shouldn’t have said that.”

“You know my name.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Clara, you literally just said you did. I know you’re an expert liar, but you need to refresh yourself about how it works.”

Clara kicked her toe against some non-existent obstacle on the deck. “Have for a while now.”

“Tell me. What is my name?”

And Clara told him.

The Doctor, in spite of his concern, was impressed. “I haven’t heard it spoken for a long time. You don’t need to stress the fifth syllable, and you need to work a bit on the accent, but otherwise, well done. How did you find out?”

“It was the weirdest thing. I had a dream a while ago that I’d found an old book in the TARDIS library. It was a book about the Time War. I opened the book and saw your name. Next time I was here, I took a nip round to the library, and the book was exactly where I dreamed it, and your name was right where I dreamed it.”

The Doctor frowned. “Come with me.”

He led her through the maze of corridors that led to the library. The book in question sat on a pedestal. “This book,” he inquired.

“That’s the one. Page 1,963.”

The Doctor hoisted the hefty book and opened to the page. He frowned again and turned it towards Clara. “What do you see?”

“Your name.”

“Where?”

She pointed at the High Gallifreyan word midway down the page. The fact it was next to a montage image of the Doctor’s first nine incarnations—though the image of the one known as the Doctor of War was intentionally blurred—offered little room for error.

“Have you been taking High Gallifreyan lessons at London Community College when I haven’t been looking?”

Clara frowned. “I thought I was reading English.”

The Doctor suddenly shouted at the ceiling. “What game are you playing?”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Guess.”

He stalked back to the console room, refusing to answer Clara’s questions along the way.

Back at the console, the Doctor started to flip switches, his concern about the interrogation long forgotten.

“Doctor, talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t have read that.”

Clara cast her eyes down for a moment, but then decided: why the hell should I feel bad? “I’m sorry, but it’s not like it was under lock and key and you told me once that I could go anywhere in the TARDIS except the room containing the Eye of Harmony because you don’t have a powerful enough sunscreen and Rose and River’s bedrooms for … reasons. I didn’t think the library was anything forbidden. This isn’t Hogwarts and your books aren’t about to bite my nose off.”

“No, those are in the other library.” The Doctor unexpectedly put his hand on Clara’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But Clara, you misunderstand. I don’t mind you knowing my name. I should have told you long ago, but you seemed to like calling me Basil …”

“I think your real name is beautiful. You should use it.”

“You know why I can’t. But thank you all the same. No, Clara, what I meant was that you shouldn’t have been able to read the name. TARDISes are hardwired not to translate High Gallifreyan. It’s a security feature so that if one is ever stolen the thief can’t just bang away using the manual and cause havoc through time. With my lifestyle, I’ve never disabled that feature. It also, in theory, protects other information—like the wrong people finding out my real name.”

Clara sat down on the metal steps. “I don’t understand.”

The Doctor sat next to her. “Neither do I. Unless…” He got up again and went to the console.

Clara joined him. “That sounded like an a-ha! Was it an a-ha?”

“It’s so simple, why didn’t I think of it before? Remember when I gave you my motorcycle for your birthday?”

“Yes.”

“And you had to take lessons for the licence?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And … do you remember how you were so good at it, the teacher offered you a job as an instructor _during the first lesson_?”

Clara laughed. “Some people have a knack for things. I guess riding motorcycles is one of mine. Am I going to hate where this is going?”

“Hopefully not. To borrow a word my predecessor once liked, this could be really cool, indeed,” the Doctor said, grinning broadly. “Now, tell me Clara, what about your knowledge of mathematics?”

“What about it?”

“You’re a genius at math.”

“So? I got my A levels.”

“But you told me how you became so much in demand for helping students with calculus at Coal Hill, my old friend Ian Chesterton considered having you switch specialties. Even though you never took calculus before in your life.”

“OK, Doctor, explain.”

The Doctor flipped a switch on the console and an image of Clara appeared on the scanner. Actually, it wasn’t Clara; it was an antique photograph of one Clara Oswin Oswald, a nanny who lived in the 1890s. The one who, through her tragic death, led the Doctor to find the original Clara Oswald in 2012 London.

Clara smiled sadly. “I owe her so much. I wish I could have met her in person.”

Another image appeared: another woman who looked like Clara, but this one wore a lab coat and distressingly thick glasses. She actually resembled Osgood to a degree.

“I don’t know this one, Doctor.”

“She was part of Turing’s team during the war. An absolute genius at maths. I actually met her recently when I paid Alan a visit. Been meaning to mention it. And then there’s this one:”

Another image. This one was startling in its intensity. Another Clara, now dressed in tight black leather like Marianne Faithfull in _Girl on a Motorcycle_ and, like the iconic singer-actress in that film, this Clara sat astride a powerful-looking cycle next to a race track.

The Doctor explained: “She was one of the first women to find success in motorcycle racing. She was also a stunt performer.”

Clara looked sad. “I take it that’s how she…”

“Yes, but let’s not dwell on that.”

“Do you know what it had to do with you?”

“Apparently, nothing. Not all of your echoes made the connection; Amy describes meeting a Clara who never found me in one of her books, but at least she lived to a ripe old age. This one of you lived a high-risk lifestyle and, I guess, it caught up to her. Very sad.”

Clara started pacing nervously. “What are you getting at, Doctor?”

“I’m about to call up something I have never looked at before. I’ve suspected it for a long time. I have a vague memory of it, but I was too worried about getting away from Gallifrey to pay much attention at the time.”

“Attention to what?”

The Doctor pushed a button and a grainy surveillance video began playing on the scanner, showing a row of silver cylinders.

“Naked TARDISes. Avert thine eyes to preserve their modesty,” he chuckled. 

“When was this?”

“For all intents and purposes, the beginning.”

Two shadowy figures entered the frame, but soon entered the light and became identifiable: a white-haired old man, and a dark-haired teenage girl with a pixie haircut. The old man sounded impatient.

     _“Come along, don’t dawdle. We don’t have a moment to lose.”_

     _“Yes, Grandfather.”_

Clara gaped: “Is that Susan?”

“And me. The first me.”

Susan spoke again in the video.

     _“Which one are we stealing, Grandfather?”_

     _“Not stealing, child. Borrowing.”_

The first Doctor stopped to examine two of the TARDISes, a confused look on his face.

     _“Koschei told me there would be one TARDIS unlocked. But there’s two open. Which one? Which one?”_

He continued to be indecisive, despite the fact Citadel security was likely to be alerted at any moment.

     _“Hurry, Grandfather!”_

That broke him out of his reverie.

     _“Yes, quite right, quite right. OK … this one.”_

His pressed the hidden trigger that opened the door to one of the TARDISes, and he quickly ushered Susan inside. He took one last look around before he intended to follow her.

     _“Doctor? Doctor?”_

The soft voice belonged to a young woman, dressed in the uniform of the TARDIS maintenance team. Large dark eyes, an almost dreamy look on her face as she gazed at the first Doctor, who looked nervous. Had he been found out? Had she seen Susan?

“Oh my stars,” Clara said. The Doctor realized she was holding his hand tightly as the playback continued.

     _“Yes, what is it? What do you want?”_

     _“Sorry, but you’re about to make a very big mistake.”_

For a moment, the Doctor and the technician—who looked like Clara Oswald of Blackpool but was actually an echo of Clara, created as part of a gambit from stopping the Great Intelligence from destroying the Doctor’s timeline—locked eyes. The first Doctor began to look defeated. It was over before it had even begun.

But then the young woman smiled and leaned casually against the other TARDIS that had been left unlocked.

     _“Don’t steal that one, steal_ this _one. The navigation system’s knackered, but you’ll have much more fun.”_

With a smile, the echo of Clara stood aside and let the Doctor and Susan enter the second TARDIS. As it dematerialized, an alarm could be heard sounding. But it didn’t quite drown out the echo’s last words before the video ended:

     _“Run, you clever boy, and remember.”_

“I was a Gallifreyan,” Clara said, amazed, as the Doctor shut off the scanner. “An honest-to-God Gallifreyan!”

“Not just that, Clara, but … if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have borrowed this TARDIS in the first place.”

“Imagine if you’d taken the other one.”

“What, one that actually worked properly? I don’t even want to think. Obviously, that’s what the Great Intelligence wanted to happen. It’s probably still sitting in that same old workshop, unlocked, waiting for somebody to come along and steal it. I wonder if that’ll ever happen?”

Clara started pacing again. “So you’re saying I can understand High Gallifreyan because of her?”

“A man is the sum of his memories, a Time Lord even more so. That has to also apply to someone in your unique circumstance. You keep telling me about your dreams. Some of the knowledge, the wisdom, of your echoes has to have come back into you.”

“So is that why I’m a … what’s the word for a total screaming genius that sounds modest and yet a tiny bit sexy?” Clara asked. As the Doctor started to laugh, she added: “What?”

“Yeah, I think that pretty much confirms it, Oswin.” Clara shook her head, not getting the reference. “Never mind. The fact you used to be a Gallifreyan explains your affinity for operating the TARDIS—just like that motorcycle instructor said, you could probably teach me a thing or two—and yes, that’s probably why you were able to read High Gallifreyan. These abilities were always within you, maybe you displayed them without even realizing it, but I think they were really unlocked after you jumped into my timestream and everything really kicked off.”

“That’s … a lot to take in,” Clara said, softly.

The Doctor took her hand. “You really are my impossible girl,” he said. 

Clara smiled back. “And you will always be my Doctor.” She took his hand and gave his palm an unexpected kiss. “And this also means something very, very important.”

“And that is?”

She leaned in and booped him on the nose with the pad of her index finger.

“Next time, you definitely have to let me play good cop.”

**Author's Note:**

> The encounter between the First Doctor and the Clara echo is a mixture of original dialogue and transcription from the episode "The Name of the Doctor."
> 
> Clara first saw the Doctor's name in print in "Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS" in a book that should not have been in English and "A Good Man Goes to War" confirmed that the TARDIS can't translate High Gallifreyan (I offer here my speculation as to why that is the case). My theory is that Clara was able to read it because of latent memories of being the Clara on Gallifrey who helped the First Doctor steal his TARDIS. Koeschi, for those who don't know, is the real name of the Master as established in the Virgin New Adventures novels. 
> 
> Amy is described as meeting a Clara echo that never met a Doctor in the print version of the novella collection Summer Falls and Other Stories.
> 
> Clara's surprising affinity for math (maybe not calculus, but math all the same) was revealed in Last Christmas.
> 
> And yes, I do believe the TARDIS the Doctor didn't take was the one that was later given to Clara.


End file.
